


Tame a dragon

by TheKats



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Bilbo is a fucking saint, Human Smaug, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Post-Desolation of Smaug, There!, Transformation, ish, maybe rather, sometime after Bard shot Smaug!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-31 13:15:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6471322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheKats/pseuds/TheKats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smaug crawled forward through the water. It was thick and heavy on his lungs. This form wasn't made to move in water.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sassiebone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sassiebone/gifts).



> I should stop re-watching The Hobbit. Especially when I don't know how to write all old-fashion-y..

Smaug crawled forward through the water. It was thick and heavy on his lungs. This form wasn't made to move in water.  
Pain stung in his chest. That cursed black arrow. The chances of a simple human shooting that kind of arrow into that exact spot; they were just beyond improbable. And yet here he was, trying on his claws to get out of that lake. He released a deep grunt, as a result inhaling a large gulp of water after, coughing, fighting to get out of the wet, relieved when his winged arm reached above the surface and pushing himself up with the strength, and pain, he could manage to get his head up as well. He opened his eyes, his surroundings blurry, but he could make out the shore. Coughing violently, he heaved himself up on it, curling in on himself as he forced the fluid out of his lungs. Just as his head began to clear up and his thoughts wandered to the worry he might have been heard, his mind got distracted by the returning throbbing pain in his chest, muscles tensing, constricting his breath. This wasn't just the doing of a wound, not even one like this. It was something different, something he hadn't known in a long time and dreaded to face again. He snarled as the unpleasant sensation crawled along his spine, licking over his bones into his skin. He could feel it softening, shedding the scales it encased all over his body. A roar of pain confirmed his suspicion of his insides beginning the change as well; his vocal chords loosening, becoming weaker, making him sound smaller and more vulnerable by the second. He knew it wouldn't take too much longer when he felt the tang of pain flaming from the nerves in his tail, all of them retracting, his tail bone cracking loudly as it crushed, reformed and repeated this routine until it had formed back into nothing more than an invisible bump at the end of his spine. The rest of his skeleton followed, pulling at the long muscles, burning him up from the inside with sensitivity. The last thing he consciously felt was his heartbeat picking up its pace, the sudden elevated rush of blood making him black out.  
  
When he woke, he immediately felt coldness had consumed his altered body, his muscles too worn out to even shake to warm him, he looked around as much as he could, then attempted to move his limbs and rub them, but he was too exhausted and too cold.  
Not too far from him, he could hear voices calling out. Had it not done that anyway, his blood would have drained from his face. Not only was he in a useless human body, in which he couldn't fight, but the useless body was rendered useless even to its own capacity by the temperature and circumstances, so he couldn't even hide. He just hoped his appearance wouldn't bear too much resemblance to how people used to know him; he may be proud, but he wasn't foolish enough to let it get him killed. He closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing, which was difficult when your body wasn't really yours, but he tried to appear dead to the men that searched the area, apparently looking for survivors.  
One of them knelt beside him, addressing him with a soft 'hey' and shaking his shoulder lightly. He was found out, it seemed, so he opened his eyes, staring back at the man next to him. “I found one!” he shouted as he turned around, calling his fellow scouts to them. “It's alright, we're going to get you to the shelter.” he said to Smaug. The dragon looked around them, seeking the rest of the 'we', before turning his exasperated gaze back to the man beside him. The 'shelter' could only be something where there would be a lot of humans. Smaug wasn't quite sure that was such a good idea. “What's your name?” he was asked, but he couldn't get his voice to work, which didn't matter, as it turned out, because the other men arrived and hauled him up to sit him down in a small wheelbarrow. This was this by far the lowest Smaug had ever seen any dragon sink. He was being pushed around in a wheelbarrow while the others searched for more survivors with their own wheelbarrows. The mere word, wheelbarrow, was humiliating enough to scar his pride for more than one dragon's lifetime. If he had the strength for it, he would not be in this situation another second, but he accepted his tragic fate, not daring to ponder the tragic future that awaited him. Living with humans was not on his list of favourite destinies. He would get there, he would warm up and leave and figure out how to return to his usual form.  
He hissed as the pain in his chest spiked again. The man looked down at him, at his wound. “Looks nasty.. Hey, we will get you all better, hm? Here, take this, cover yourself up a little. Don't know what happened to your clothes... Don't think I want to..” Smaug looked down in disgust at the dirty, shabby blanket covering his lap. “I don't think I've seen you here before. Are you a traveller? Picked an awful time to travel, though, I must say. You can be lucky to have survived that dragon. Good thing that beast is finally dead. Nasty creature, destroyed _all_ our lives..” Smaug pursed his lips at the complaining man. He would like to bite his head of for just that. Humans; they were all the same dull, obvious and terribly simple creatures.

 


	2. Familiar Strangers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, the writing sucks and it's not terribly long, but I didn't want to stretch the chapter and make it even more boring.. I'm having a mild case of writer's block at the moment and a million stories to continue still, which is kind of an apology for also not including a summary, but I don't think I'll do that for the rest of the chapters anyway..
> 
> Either way, I hope you can enjoy this somewhat. And again, I'm really, very sorry, if you expected any better to come after the prologue.

He was laid down on a stone bench, in some damaged building, a pillow of cloths padding it comfortably. Then they left him alone, with the promise of someone coming by to check his wounds.  
He was amongst humans. And he was close by the mountain. The conditions for fleeing this place were not ideal, especially, when he looked around to see more nests like his, apparently, there would be others sleeping there with him. He could barely stand the _stink_ of these humans as it was. The room was cold and the air still, but it was there, lingering in the fabrics scattered across the room. Human sweat and fear smelled hardly different from the generic scent of dwarf. It was disgusting.  
They had laid down clothes for him to wear. He inspected them. A white shirt that had lost its charm and.. colour long ago. Worn and washed into a dirty shade of itself. Dark blue trousers, weak in the knees. Jacket and boots in much the same state, not to speak of the underwear. Wrinkling his nose, Smaug pulled each item over his new body as he imagined would make sense. Humans were weak, their skin thin and bodies not easily self-sustaining. He was experiencing cold, and while he liked the general sensation of it, he didn't think it wise to pursue it. His muscles were trembling in a feeble attempt at producing warmth with movement, though it was more bothersome than helpful. Old instincts that still hadn't left their systems. Useless and pathetic.  
  
The wooden door opened and a man entered, a basket full of herbs and supplies with him. “You will be the new lad, then, eh? Pull up your shirt and lay down, please.” he said and Smaug watched his small steps carefully. The man looked middle-aged, though he had a problematic hip, judging by his walking. Perhaps an old warrior – humans didn't seem to be too robust. Smaug complied with the request and lay down, shirt and jacket raised. “The vest, too, please.” the man kindly said. “I was told of just that one wound. Is there anything else giving you trouble, lad?” he asked as he sat down next to him on the stone. Smaug shook his head slowly, regarding him carefully. He flinched when the man reached to touch him, throwing him an offended look, but he just smiled kindly and reached out again, more gently, considerate. Smaug hissed when he glid his fingers along the wound to assess the damage. The man gave him a strange look. “Carlyle told me you seemed like you'd lost your memory. Don't suppose you remember how you came by this?” he asked and as Smaug simply stared back, he accepted it as a 'no'. “Well, I will make some of these to a balm to help the wound seal itself, but do not expect it to make it any less uncomfortable.”  
  
“Who will be sleeping here?” Smaug asked after a while. The physician was sitting at a wooden table, mixing his herbs. Smaug found his words with an accent, his tongue, chords and overall shape of his head making talking an entirely new experience in this form. Forming the sounds was odd.  
  
“Other injured people, mainly. Some of their family. The rest of us are preparing for battle, while you lot heal.” the man said, looking at him over his shoulder.  
  
He would be sharing space with injured humans, magnificent. He looked to the ground. He had sat back up in his little bed, feet placed firmly on the stone floor. He wondered if he could ever adapt to a life amongst humans. They were better than dwarves, but by far not his favourite. Mostly, Smaug preferred his own company, many dragons did. It made hoarding a lot easier; less to be shared. That was also why they rarely mated for life. Possessiveness was not an attribute for company.  
Disrupting his thoughts was the arrival of more people; two women, both appearing to have experienced damage to certain parts of their bodies. At least there was cloth covering those spaces in a binding similar to another. They were talking and fell silent as their eyes fell on him. Just in that moment, the physician came back to him and he gave no warning when he pressed his cold, slippery palm against the wound on his chest. He moved his hand back and forth, spreading the balm he had made over the affected flesh, then bound cloth around him, too. Then the man left, saying he would return the next day.  
Smaug sat there, at first, just looking at the door, then over at the women who had resumed their conversation. When they noticed his stare, they faltered again. He briefly wondered if they were scared. “What is your name?” one of them asked.

  
Smaug waited a moment, hoping the question would fall and that he would not have to give an answer. It seemed he had no luck. “I don't remember.” he said after a long moment. He hadn't thought of a new name, but he was sure he should not give them his old one.  
  
“Do you remember where you are from?” she continued to ask. He shook his head.  
  
“He looks like an elf.” the other woman whispered to her companion, a shy smile on her lips. Smaug proceeded to observe them, their behaviour.  
  
“Have you ever seen an elf with short black hair? And he does not have the ears either.” the first woman argued quietly, like they were having a conversation he was not meant to hear. Rude, to talk about someone and not let them partake.  
  
“Ah, it does not matter where he is from. Either way, he is beautiful!” they laughed quietly at that. Smaug failed to see the humour.  
  
“You wouldn't know beauty beyond the tips of your own noses.” he said evenly, looking off to the side. It was pathetic, really, how now they admired his appearance, only not knowing who he was. Had they known he was the dragon they had feared once, they would not say any of this. Unable to reach beyond the known. Simple. Human.  
  
Quite obviously, they found his lack of receptiveness odd, as they, once again, stopped their interactions. They seemed not to bother long, though, as they soon asked him again. “Should we think of a name for you? We have to call you something! How about...-”  
  
“Sam. Just call me Sam, if you must.” he quickly decided and, though surprised, the women seemed to appreciate it.  
  
“Do you remember if you have any family, Sam?” one of the women asked. She was making an odd face at him, like seeking his pity. He did not understand her need for such a look.  
  
“I remember nothing.”  
  
  
The first few days and nights passed without greater excitement. He was asked to do small tasks during the day, such as carrying supplies back and forth. In the later hours, the people in his shelter sat together and talked, paying more attention than he would have liked. Particularly the female humans were aggressive in their obsession with him.  
He mostly just sat and looked and it bored him.  
  
At some point in time, however, he was asked to bring water and food to someone who was not residing there for long. Alfrid, he recalled, had sent him and the mere attitude of that man reminded Smaug of the pleasures of killing humans. Lazy man who could not even do the tasks given to him. A worm would be a better companion than him.  
But Smaug wanted to remain as unnoticed as possible until his wound fully healed, so he did as he was told. He did not like it, but he also did not like dying, so it seemed a fair trade to him. He entered the ruins of an old stone house to find the guest in a small room that held a bed, a desk a chair and some candles, not more.  
The man was small, the size of a dwarf, but he wasn't a dwarf. His feet were big and his smell was.. well, what did he know, his senses hadn't been the same since his form had changed. His perspective and quality of sight had probably changed the most significantly. In comparison to before, he had a much narrower field of vision and the colours around him seemed incomplete. But his hearing, touch and taste were a lot different as well. He was not used to wearing his skin as the outermost layer and his smaller head had less space for resonance; not to mention his tongue, which was just different altogether.  
But his nose, that likely bothered him the most. Scents were dull, shallow, easily drowned and hard to catch sometimes. Nothing smelled the same as before, not even he himself did.  
  
He placed the mildly appealing smelling food on the desk, pouring a cup of water and leaving the jug on the table. He was on his way to leave again when the guest spoke. “Please, uh, could you stay? Just for a while.” Smaug turned around to regard him with mild surprise. He felt like he recognised the man's eyes. “I am sorry, I just would like to have some steady company for a moment.” It wasn't so much the request, but rather his own interest in who this man was that kept Smaug there. He sat down on the bed as the man took a seat in his chair, short legs hanging in the air. “Thank you. For bringing me this _and_ for staying.” The guest said, avoiding eye contact. It was interesting; most people sought it. “My name is Bilbo, I am a hobbit from the Shire.” the brunet introduced himself, looking at him expectantly.  
  
“Sam.” Smaug simply replied, studying Bilbo intently.  
  
The hobbit did not seem to like this kind of attention, as he awkwardly shifted around and, giving a small grunting noise, began eating. “You don't talk much, it seems.” he noted.  
  
Smaug tilted his head in curiosity at the small creature. “I am not used to company.”  
  
A short breath of a chuckle escaped Bilbo. “Funny. It was not too long ago that I would have said the same... Now I can barely stand solitude.”  
  
“How come?”  
  
“I joined a group of dwarves. The same that are now guarding the mountain again, stubbornly so. But they will come to their senses, I know.” Bilbo told him and Smaug's eyes narrowed as the hobbit seemed to relax and get more comfortable in their conversation.  
  
“The mountain?” the dragon merely asked, seeking confirmation of his conclusion.  
  
Bilbo, oblivious, continued to eat. “Yes. Now that Smaug is dead the dwarves can finally rebuild their home. That is, if Thorin comes back to himself.. He has become very different. I know it is that stone that's causing it, but I don't know how we can cure him. He will not get better just by coming to terms with the humans and elves..”  
  
Smaug licked his lips. “He is sick, then, your friend?” he asked. Maybe there was some good to be heard after all. He may have been robbed of his treasure, but at least the dwarf was paying a high price; the least he deserved.  
  
“'Dragon sickness', Balin called it. He is obsessed with all that gold and most of all the arkenstone. So much so, that he forgets who his friends really are.” Bilbo explained, a sadness in his voice. It made Smaug feel a little bit of pity for him, which he shouldn't. This thief had taken it all from him. “I wish I had not found the stone. Maybe, if I had just come back out, without the stone, without waking Smaug.. who knows what would have happened. They would still have no home.. but at least they would still have each other.”  
  
“What was your role in all of this?”  
  
Bilbo tucked his chin in for a second. “I was employed to retrieve the arkenstone. Had I known what it would do to Thorin and that the dragon was really sleeping in there, I might have refused for everyone's sake.” Bilbo took a sip of water.  
  
Smaug could not really blame him, although evidently, Bilbo did. He had had a task and he had done it to his best capacity. In a way, it was ironical how Smaug was suddenly feeling sorry for the hobbit. He had no personal business with him, fault lay still with the dwarves, but it was him who had brought all this on everyone. Maybe his human form was making him more empathetic. “Do not blame yourself for the faults of the dwarves. They are greedy by nature, incapable to share with anyone but their own.”  
  
“Maybe.” Bilbo replied, a certain defensiveness had entered his voice and he turned around to finally look Smaug in the eyes. “But they are also very loyal and include others to 'their own'.” he argued, then looked a little angrily at Smaug for a moment, regarding his straight features until a frown spread on his own. “Have we met before?”  
  
“Do you remember meeting me?”  
  
“Your eyes seem.. familiar.”  
  
“How so?”  
  
“Amber is not a very common eye colour.” Bilbo said, narrowing his blue ones.  
A smooth, almost unnoticeable smile played Smaug's features, challenging the hobbit to see who he was. “I am sorry, it is probably nothing.” he eventually said, turning away, but deep thought remained to be written across his face.  
  
“Probably.” Smaug agreed, standing up. “I will better leave now. I have some more meals to carry out and I think you should rest without my further upsetting you. Have a good night.” he said kindly, then left the room into the damaged old building and out onto the streets. He passed Alfrid on his way back to the shelter, where he collected more food supplies to bring them to the centre of the settlement. There it would be split evenly for those who were getting ready for battle.  
When he lay in his nest that evening, he did not regret having ended his conversation with the little thief. He was certain they would meet again very soon.  
  
Meanwhile, Bilbo had finished his supper in contemplative silence. Amber eyes were a steady picture in his head. The familiarity was unmistakable, but he was convinced he would remember ever talking to that peculiar man. The way he moved, inclining his head, almost gliding over the floor as he walked; all of his strangely elegant behaviour seemed something hard to forget and yet they were foreign to Bilbo – if it wasn't for the eyes.  
It was not the time to speculate over people he may or may not have met before, though, he had to get back to the mountain before the morning and before the dwarves really noticed his absence. He could not allow for them to suspect.  
He opened the wooden door to find his guard asleep, which was sad for the humans, but beneficial for him. He slipped away unnoticed, not even having to use the ring to get away; the shadows of the night gave him cover.

 


	3. Old Ends and New Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this was semi-satisfying to write. I just slipped in and out of an almost-fitting style in this chapter, but I won't expect any more of myself anyway, so there ya go.  
> Also, it's not common for me to upload chapters this quickly. It's a rare rush of inspiration for this story at the moment. Don't kill me if any of the future updates take a couple of months (see some of my other fics... *cough*)
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

“You have changed, Thorin! The dwarf I met in Bag End would never have gone back on his word. Would never have doubted the loyalty of his kin!” Hurtful words, Bilbo knew, but by now, he could think of no other way to make Thorin come to his right mind again. The look of hurt and betrayal in the dwarf's eyes was still more than a bit cruel to his honest intent.  
  
“Do not speak to me of loyalty!” Only when Thorin ordered the others to throw Bilbo from the rampart did the hobbit truly realise how disappointed the dwarf was. Disappointed and mad without limit. To think Thorin would actually condemn him like this, their friendship, over a valuable gem; Bilbo felt it was his turn to feel betrayed and he regretted having let it come this far. He should have acted earlier. How bent he was on taking revenge on him that he would ignore his men's refusal of such actions against Bilbo. By the look on his face, he was certain Thorin would have pursued his plans to kill him, had Gandalf not stepped in.  
“I will have war.” These words and the arriving army of dwarves made Bilbo honestly lose all hopes for Thorin's recovery. The dwarf had planned this. Apparently, he had been in too deep for longer than Bilbo had known or noticed. It seemed his only safety now was with Gandalf.  
Only when giant worms broke from the earth, he was not sure if even the wizard would be able to protect him any more. Between the dwarves and the elves and the humans and the orcs, Bilbo just lost all sense of safety. He could defend himself against one opponent at best; he was no fighter, neither by nature nor by practice. The only choice was to run. Yes, and run they did. Back into the human city, which stood but little chance against the orcs' intrusion. Still, it was safer to stand against one part of an army instead of in the middle of three, and the people there needed help.   
  
The warriors were all out with them and left were only women, children and the wounded. Like Sam. Why Bilbo should think of him precisely in this moment was of little question; he was the only man he had really met in his short time with them, and he was sympathetic, too. Odd, but interesting. Surely all of them were, in their own ways and taking their stories away this way seemed unjust to their innocence.  
Even if it was not much he could do; even if he was a useless fighter – he would try to help however he could. They deserved as much.   
At least his height gave him an advantage. He could disappear between them and attack for as long as his short form remained unnoticed. Their eyes were fixed on taller targets and so Bilbo could hide nicely.  
Yet, it was screams and death and tragedy all around him; chaos, that he had no overview on. He was not made for battle; he was no dwarf. And still, Thorin sat in the mountain, obsessing over his gold, doing nothing to aid even those who fought for him. 'I will not part with a single coin!' It were the exact same words Smaug had said to him. Thorin seemed to become the very thing he had hated for so long. The way he had said it, his voice, the look in his eyes. Soft blue flashed in a fiery amber. He recognised those eyes. Those amber eyes.  
It was impossible.  
A loud, roaring sound of a horn ended Bilbo's drifting thoughts and he looked to see the dwarves leave the mountain, and they renewed the spirits and wills amongst their kin. Had Thorin found back to himself? Was he cured of those ill thoughts? He was fighting at the very least; if for his kin or for his gold, Bilbo was just glad to see him come out. Only they did not stay long, four of them storming off into the north. Not long after the elves told them of the army approaching from beyond Ravenhill. Thorin had to be warned. They needed to retreat.  
Bilbo ran as fast as he could, the ring hiding him from anyone's eyes.   
Thorin, when he reached him, was definitely changed. Back to his old self, thankfully. No more greed in his eyes. It was replaced with anger and grief as his nephew died to his eyes.   
Bilbo drew his sword as Thorin went to aid Kíli. Though it did not help him much as bats swept over his head and Dwalin saved him from the orcs' lust for blood. All he could do was aim stones at their heads and hope that would serve to at least take them out momentarily to give the dwarf more time. That was, until one blow to his own head left himself unconscious.  
  
The next thing Bilbo knew, were the eagles above him and Thorin dying by Azog's dead body. He knew he could not help, could not save his friend, but he was not ready to let him pass yet either. Not with these words. Not with any words. Thorin had fought so long to reclaim his home and was yet denied ever living inside it again. There was simply no fairness to this. He was trying desperately to keep the dwarf with him. The eagles could save him, bring him to Gandalf and Gandalf would make it better. Only he knew it was already too late. It was hard and heavy on his heart, but there was nothing left to do. Nothing that could bring him back, make him live how he had wished for such a long time. He could never feel the safety and warmth of home and friendship. Bilbo could not tell him his forgiveness any more. The least he had, was death in pride and honour. At least he had achieved what he had desired for his father and his kin. Azog was dead and Erebor was back in their hands. Thorin had not fought for nothing. He had died for a new old home and peace.  
  
By the time Gandalf arrived, Bilbo felt dull, grief had given to an empty feeling. It was surprising how fast these things could change. Gandalf seemed to not be affected in the least. Who knew how many he had seen falling.   
They were to look forward into a future Thorin, and everyone who died, had secured for them. But Bilbo did not belong with them. He was a visitor amongst these grieving people; men and dwarves honouring their deceased alike, celebrating the victory and new-found freedom.  
His departure was quick and goodbyes short. He did not want to dwell on all the things, seeking comfort in the promise of loneliness and quiet. On a stony descent not far outside Erebor, a familiar figure sat, seemingly awaiting him. He recognised him even with his back to him; the posture and movements unmistakable. Amber eyes opened up inside his mind and with them a memory of Thorin's greatest fall. He did not know how it was possible, but there was no denying it. The resemblance was just too strong.  
  
“Are you waiting to kill me?” Bilbo asked seriously, standing at a safe distance towards the other man.  
  
“Do I look in the shape or position to kill you?” was the answering question with a sidelong glance. “Though I am honoured to see you remember me.”  
  
Bilbo pursed his lips and tucked in his chin a little. “You've left an impression.” he simply bit. A smirk danced across his face and while it looked uncanny in its snake-like appearance, it had a feeling of calm to it. “You died.”  
  
Smaug sighed deeply at that. “So I would have thought myself.”  
  
A silence stretched between them before Bilbo continued questioning the dragon. “How did you survive the war? It does not look like you fought among the others.”  
  
“No. The more badly wounded stayed with the children. To protect them. We were safe inside a great hall.”  
  
“You did not look too bad the last time I saw you.” Bilbo noted, questioning Smaug's real reason to hide. A mere huff was all he earned as a reply. “What is... this, then?” he asked, gesturing at the man's body.  
  
“A curse. An old curse; one I had forgotten about.” the dragon explained, observing his own hand as he moved it experimentally. He was still not fully used to this form. “It said that after death, I would be reborn as a man.”  
  
“That sounds more like a blessing than a curse to me.”  
  
“To you.”  
  
“You get a new life! Others are less lucky!” the hobbit protested and Smaug looked at him with a funny glint in his eyes.  
  
“As a human! I get to live to the mercy of the very people I killed and terrorised. That is not kindness, it is mockery!”   
  
Bilbo clenched his jaw at the fierce look of the amber eyes, but this form made Smaug much less threatening. There was no more honest fear of him inside Bilbo. Even as the man's nostrils flared with the heavy breaths of rage. “You did even more damage to the dwarves. Why are you sitting outside Erebor?”

 

“I left the humans. I cannot stay with them.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“I would rather die than seek their kindness in the face ignorance. I may not be of kind nature, but I am not a coward. And much less am I dishonest.” the dragon said, sounding offended by the mere suggestions. “Unlike others I will not lie to save my life.” A moment passed and they looked at one another, Bilbo knowing this was a direct offence, but he was tired and unwilling to fight another battle. “Tell me: what has become of Thorin Oakenshield?”  
  
Bilbo swallowed hard, forcing his welling emotions down. “He died. He died killing his enemy.”  
  
“Did he turn mad?” The smirk in Smaug's question told Bilbo not to answer, but he was curious. He wished to know more about this sickness.   
  
He walked a little closer and sat down, still keeping a safe distance between them. “He recovered, eventually. What was that madness?”  
  
The smile did not leave Smaug's pale lips as he answered. “Some say that a treasure on which a dragon has brooded is infected with a curse. The longer the dragon laid claim on it, the worse the sickness makes whoever takes the treasure. I think it was the precious jewel; the arkenstone. For all the beauty the dwarves' gold held for me, the arkenstone sparks greed. Even I was affected by it.”  
  
“So, you say the arkenstone was responsible for everything you did?” Bilbo asked in irony.  
  
Smaug shook his head, his smile spreading into a grin. “As I said: I am not of kind nature. It is our instinct to seek out a treasure and claim and hoard. But without the arkenstone, I would not have been interested enough in the gold of the mountain to leave my old hoard. I had not known of its power then, but it would not have stopped me if I had. It was a nice hoard.” the man replied, closing his eyes and stretching his neck in memory of his past comfort.  
  
“And now you are all alone, without shelter or food. A weak man-”  
  
“And I have one _thief_ to thank for that, do I not?” It was back, the danger in Smaug's amber eyes. “Are you really any better than me? You robbed me of my home, my life! How is that any different? You are as guilty as I am!”  
  
Bilbo looked at the predator, looked him in the eyes. It was strangely easy to empathise with Smaug like this. He was much more pitiable as a man than he was a dragon. “Come with me. I will give you shelter and food.”  
  
Smaug's expression changed abruptly into blunt irritation. “I tried to kill you and you offer me your home?”  
  
“Just for a while.” Bilbo defended himself. “You are right. I took your home. It is only fair to help you come back to strength. Besides, you can't do any damage when I constantly have my eyes on you. I believe that would be a wise thing to do.” Not to mention that Bilbo sympathised with him more than he cared to admit. This adventure had left them both broken and without a sense of belonging anywhere. Smaug did not seem harmful to him, but he would be careful. He made it his new purpose to try and make the dragon an acceptable human, so he could one day live in peace amongst them. He would not just deny someone as helpless as himself. He would be better than that.   
It was unwise to dwell on a past that was no more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just like everything by me, this is not beta-ed. Grammar and typos are welcome to be reported by the quote!


	4. Back in Bag End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, some recent comments inspired me to wrap up the scraps to this chapter, so here we are!
> 
> Also, I finally have an ending in mind. You won't like it. ^-^  
> (Don't worry, it will be a bit until then. For now: Enjoy my crappy writing, whooooooh!)

As it turned out, raking Smaug in to his home was not as easy as imagined. Bilbo managed to sneak him through the Shire undetected at night, but he noticed the first problem when they stopped in front of his hole. When he looked up at the tall man, he didn't know the expression on Smaug's had been there ever since they'd passed the first house, but it was still unmistakable. Smaug was, quite honestly, questioning his sanity.  
Bilbo didn't let that irritate him, however. He opened the door and invited Smaug in. The tall man clenched his jaw and bent his back low to fit through the door, able, only slightly, to straighten himself up again inside. It was just as he'd suspected: very small.  
Bilbo, entering after him, found Smaug appeared very odd in the setting of his house. He was quite tall, even for a human, and the Hobbit hole was, well, Hobbit-sized.  
Bilbo tried hard not to laugh, but couldn't suppress the grin spreading across his lips, so he turned his head away to hide it, although the darkness of his home would have obscured his amusement either way.  
  
Once he had his features under control again, Bilbo lit a few candles, moved, Smaug following as expected, and spoke. “Do you know what I have really missed? Seven meals a day. It is way past supper and long 'til breakfast, but I haven't had either of these for a while now, so how about some 'supfast'?” he asked and turned around as they arrived in the kitchen.  
  
Smaug raised an eyebrow at him. “'Supfast'?” he asked back, but less like an actual question and more like another doubt of Bilbo's sanity. It was remarkable how someone who had only had a human body for a few days could already transpire so many difficult emotions so clearly.  
  
“Yes, I just made that up.” the hobbit confirmed, taking their bags into another room.  
  
Smaug remained in the kitchen, taking in his miniature surroundings. “That is a stupid name.” he commented, picking up a mug and scrutinising it thoroughly.  
  
Bilbo came back into the room, wiping his hands on his waistcoat. “Do you want to eat or not?” His tone was tinged with a bit of defence and half-hearted offence. Smaug, as an answer, remained quiet as he sat the mug back down. Bilbo nodded in conclusion and told Smaug where he could go to wash himself while he prepared some supfast. He grabbed the remains of the food they'd brought back with them and got creative. When he wanted to cook their meat, however, he had to frown a little. His pan was not where he usually kept it. He never misplaced things. He looked through his cupboard in search for it and found that, in fact, a lot was missing. Except for his most worn plates, mugs and cutlery, everything seemed to be gone. Anger boiled inside of him; someone must have broken in and taken his more valuable items. If hunger hadn't gotten a grip on him again, he would have stormed out and knocked on every hobbit's door until he found the thief.  
He was, again, surprised by himself. Gandalf hadn't lied to him – he wasn't the same hobbit as before.  
When footsteps sounded behind him, Bilbo snapped out of it, grabbing his old pot instead and putting the meat in there, firing the stove. When he turned around, he found Smaug, as expected. Only he was naked, not quite as expected.  
  
“Do you have any clothes?” the ex-dragon asked, rather expectantly, propping his hands up on his hips, not in the least ashamed of his nudity.  
  
Bilbo averted his widened-with-shock eyes, uttering a soft “ah..” as if the thought had never occurred to him that Smaug didn't have his own clothes. The hobbit was well aware his clothes would not fit the tall man. “Wait here.” he said, an idea occurring to him, but not wanting a naked man to be on his toes, especially when entering his bedroom.  
He retrieved his dressing gown. It wasn't all that long, but it was wide enough that Smaug should fit in at least. He shielded his eyes as he entered the kitchen again, holding the gown out to Smaug, who took it and tried it on, judging by the noises.  
When Bilbo looked again, Smaug was just tying the robe together, looking down himself and then to Bilbo. The hobbit gave him an inquiring look and Smaug just shrugged.  
  
It was a warm piece of clothing and it, most importantly to Bilbo, covered everything. He followed Smaug's interested eyes to were the meat was beginning to cook on the stove. “What is that?”  
  
“Pig's meat. We had some on the way back, remember?”  
  
Smaug nodded, his eyes looking almost as if he wanted to court the food. “New nose. I still haven't quite accommodated to these inferior senses. I am having trouble remembering smells in particular.”  
  
Bilbo went over to the stove and where the rest of their provisions lay on the tops beside it. “Things smell different, huh? Is that why you didn't recognise me?” he asked as he cut into a bread roll with a blunt knife, opening up one side of it.  
  
“Partly, yes. My visual abilities are also very limited now; my colour spectrum seems to be much smaller. I recognised your shape, but with your scent and colours lacking that of my memory, I could not make the connection immediately. I still remembered you quickly enough.” the man explained, leaning against the wall behind him.  
  
“I still don't understand why you didn't even try to kill me. Actually, I understand even less why you have come with me. I'm sure you could have found a way to survive without accepting my help of all..” Bilbo contemplated, cutting up their cheese and filling it into the bread-pockets he'd made, turning over the meat in the pot.  
  
“Living like a troll? I will pass, thank you. As you said, you have a lot to make up for to me and if surviving means I have to call in a favour and become a hermit, then I will survive. Besides, I know little about your kind, so I don't despise you yet.” Smaug summed up arrogantly, dragging his finger through some dust on a shelf beside him, while Bilbo took the meat off the flame and cut it up into strips to join the cheese in the bread rolls.  
  
He placed them on two plates, that had cuts all over their base. “Yet?” he scoffed in amusement, motioning for Smaug to follow him into the dining room. He set down the plates on opposite sides of the table so they'd sit facing each other.  
  
“I don't have a lot of sympathy to share.” Smaug merely replied before taking the chair opposite Bilbo and, ignoring knife and fork, grabbed on of his stuffed bread rolls biting straight into it.  
  
Bilbo had grown used to eating that way as well, but here, in his home, it still seemed odd to him. He agreed however, considering the thickness of the meal and the blunt knives, eating from his hands appeared to be the best available option. “So, basically, you're a racist.”  
  
“If you wish to call it that.” Smaug replied around his mouthful of food. “This tastes good.” he complimented.  
  
Bilbo smiled a little with his own mouth full. The cheese had melted around the hot meat, which had also filled the pocket with grease and a bit of blood. It did taste quite nice. “Thank you,” he said when he'd swallowed, “but you shouldn't talk with your mouth full of food.”  
  
“Why not?” Smaug asked sceptically.  
  
“It's impolite. And, frankly, quite disgusting, watching the chewed-up, saliva-soaked mush inside someone else's mouth.” Bilbo explained, pulling a face.  
  
Smaug pondered that for a moment, raising his hand to shield his mouth from view. “In that case, would it not suffice if I covered my mouth like this? Surely it must be even less polite not to answer someone.”  
  
Bilbo looked at him, chewing. He had a point. Bilbo still thought waiting until you'd swallowed would be more polite, but he could see where Smaug was coming from. He mimicked the man's gesture. “Well, I've eaten with dwarves, so I don't mind if you just cover your mouth; I have seen worse. But you should not assume any other company to agree to that. Especially not hobbits or elves.”  
  
After some more lessons on table manners, Bilbo saw to getting Smaug comfortable in his sitting room. He then retired to his own bed.

 

 

When Bilbo got up the following morning, it was nearly time for second breakfast. He sighed heavily, stretching on his comfortable bed. He'd gone so long without a proper place to sleep, now he would look at all his little comforts as luxury. Only the memory of Thorin's dead body, laying still, as if sleeping, on the cold ice. A pang of guilt coursed through him as he hugged his mattress while others never even new home before they died.  
Bilbo was up in seconds. He reached for his dressing gown just to be reminded that he had a guest. He quickly dressed himself and went to the sitting room, where Smaug stood studying his bookshelf. “Good morning.” the hobbit greeted the tall figure.  
Smaug didn't reply. “It is polite to return a greeting.” Bilbo informed him tersely.  
  
“I am aware.” the deep voice finally answered him, not facing him still.  
  
Bilbo pursed his lips at the rudeness. “How long have you been up already?”  
  
“About two hours. This little body has an awful sleeping routine. I explored your house a little in the meantime. You have a lot of books.” Smaug observed and finally turned to face him.  
  
Bilbo shrugged. “I like reading.”  
  
A grin spread across Smaug's lips that reminded Bilbo of the reptile he'd met in Erebor. “You like fleeing into other peoples' lives. Experience adventures.”  
  
“Well, I don't have a need for that anymore now, do I? I will go out to get us some food and to see where my kitchenware went. We will have second breakfast after.” Bilbo concluded, suddenly feeling very defensive.  
  
“We haven't had a first breakfast – would you still call it a second?”  
  
“You don't have breakfast at 9 o'clock in the morning.” And with Smaug sneering, that was that.  
Just as he stepped outside the front door, he stood face to face with some of the other Hobbits from the shire. “Did you want something?” he asked, more confused than polite. No one would yet know of his return, would they?  
  
“I am sorry. Who are you? What were you doing in this hole?”  
  
“What do you mean? This is _my_ home.” Bilbo answered incredulously.  
  
“This was the home of Mr Bilbo Baggins, who is now deceased.”  
  
Bilbo gaped at them. “What?! No, I am right here, right in front of you! This is my home! You know me!”  
  
“Do you have anything to identify yourself?”  
  
“Wha-?” the brunet pursed his lips. Then remembered the contract Balin had given to him. Since he hadn't had the time yet to wash his clothes, it should still be inside his jacket. He dug his hand into the pocket and pulled out the folded parchment, unfolding it and handing it over to show his signature. “There, my signature. What are you all doing here anyway? If you thought I was dead..”  
  
“That seems all in order...”  
“We came to auction your belongings, of course!”  
  
“Of course?!” Bilbo nearly shrieked.  
  
“Yes, yesterday we went through the kitchen. Today we are going for the sitting room. I am sure there are a couple of books there that I would like.”  
  
Bilbo grabbed the contract back as he began to boil with anger. “No, you are not going to sell anything! I am alive and these are my things – you were already in here yesterday?! Who bought my kitchenware?”

 

 

It took Bilbo a little over an hour to get everyone to give him back his things and get food. By the time he was done preparing second breakfast, it was almost time for elevenses already. “This one is quite accurate.” Smaug remarked, meaning the book he was reading, when Bilbo came in to ask him to the table.  
  
“I've got everything ready. We can eat now.” Smaug put the book down and got up. Bilbo was able to look at the cover when the other man passed him. It was a book about dragons, almost like a study. Bilbo smiled a little before following Smaug to the dining room.  
  
“Hobbits eat rather a lot, do they not?” Smaug noted over his food.  
  
Bilbo covered his mouth. “Seven meals a day, when we can have it. We just enjoy eating a lot. But I don't think we'll manage dinner _and_ supper today – I have some things to take care of.”  
  
“That is fine, I don't think I could eat that frequently either way.” Bilbo nodded. With how little he'd eaten since the beginning of his journey, he felt himself getting full off of one meal alone as well. It would take some getting used to, to fall back into his old routines.

 

 

Between meals, Smaug spent his time reading some of Bilbo's books, though he never answered Bilbo's question on how he could read them. He doubted dragons usually read a lot of books.  
The hobbit himself, meanwhile, asked a favour from an old friend to sew him some clothes as a present for a friend, while he, with some help, build a guest bed outside his house to bring inside later. He did not want anyone to know of Smaug yet.  
It was a good thing the others thought him a little odd anyway because that made it easier for him to not explain what was really going on.  
By the end of the day, he, at least, had a bed and one set of clothes to offer to Smaug, who accepted them wordlessly. However, Bilbo couldn't fail to notice what fine clothes they were. Very reminiscent of a hobbit's sense of fashion and a perfect fit for Smaug. The colours looked nice against his pale skin, dark hair and glowing eyes.  
He looked more in place.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am aware that in the books there's only 6 meals in a Hobbit's day (if they can get it), but I like the idea of having seven meals a day (now plus supfast. Which is still a stupid name and I did consider calling it breaker, but I like having the words in the order they'd appear to each other in the day) and I /did/ tag the films as the canon source, so bite me ;)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My God, I am really sorry for how long it is taking me to write at the moment, but I don't really have much time any more..  
> Anyway, I compensated for that by bringing the smut into the game! Unfortunately, that also means that there will only be another two, maybe three chapters now.  
> Short story with short chapters, I know.  
> Hope you still enjoy our little adventure here :)

“Say, Bilbo, who is that man by your home?”  
  
Immediately, Bilbo turned around to look back at Smaug lounging about on the grass in his lawn, eyes on the village around him, observing.   
The hobbit had anticipated others to find out sooner or later, he just hadn't thought it to be so unpredictable, unspectacular. He could not even rush the man into the loo as someone visited him unexpectedly. It was very... undramatic.  
“He's, uh.. a friend. A traveller, actually, I met him on my journey. Lost his family, poor lad. He said he'd visit me soon and, well, here he is.” Bilbo said in the most dramatic undramatic way he could, managing, as so often, to appear both innocent and suspicious.  
  
“Oh, is he the one you wanted the clothing for?”  
  
“Yes! Yes, exactly. He adores the first set you made him, as you can see,” Bilbo indicated with his head that Smaug was currently wearing the garments, though, granted, they were the only ones he had so far, “and I know he will be very pleased that you made him some more. Speaking of: I did come to collect them.” he not-so-gently urged, craning his neck back to look at the seriously misplaced man in a doll's house, whose eyes stopped on him seconds later. The clothes were retrieved and handed to him with minimal tutting and self-praise from the manufacturer. “How much do I owe you?”  
After paying for Smaug's new outfits, five in total, Bilbo made his way back to his hole, a tad grumpy at the dragon-come-man's ignorance and selfish decision of exposing himself like this.  
  
“You are cross with me.” the dark voice noted, but the lanky body remained flat on the grass. Bilbo questioned his sanity when he briefly wondered how a man, who had been in his body for less than a month, could look so elegant and controlled, while he, someone who's grown up and lived in their body many years, looked so..inelegant. It seemed unfair for some reason.  
  
“Well observed.” Bilbo snapped back, carrying Smaug's clothing through the door, then, changing his mind, stepped back outside and simply dumped them on the man.  
  
Smaug pushed them aside, raising his torso off the grass. “Why? What rule did I break now?”  
  
Bilbo started talking as he walked inside, tidying up after his guest. “You may be new here – or anywhere else, but _I_ have a life here, a reputation! So, maybe, next time, before you expose something that might be a little bit _important_ , you could ask me, discuss with me first _how_ you- **we** do it!” He ended just as he was coming back out to where Smaug had already reclined again.  
  
Arrogant as the day he'd met him, Smaug answered. “You do realise I couldn't hear half of that?”   
Bilbo looked down at him in mute exasperation.  
  
After a moment, he sighed. “Get back inside, you are going to help me prepare luncheon.” he declared, stomping his way through into the kitchen.  
  
Smaug closed his eyes and grunted in disapproval at the promise of going back inside the small house. Nevertheless, he soon stood up, collecting his new clothing from the grass and carried it inside to where Bilbo had furnished a room for him to stay in, complete with a human-sized bed that filled most of the room. He sat on said bed whilst stacking the robes in a small closet. It, again was the appropriate size to keep hobbit clothes in, but, considering he had only six individual outfits, it was more that enough for him.   
These days, Smaug was starting to get a little bored. Bilbo hadn't let him leave the hole and, apart from back pains, the inside did not hold too much of interest to him. Cooking was a chore he could live without and there were only so many studies on living beings of Middle-Earth he wanted to read. Worst of all, there was nothing to hoard.  
He was unsure whether or not that urge was something inherent in the human nature as well or if it was a remnant itch of his prior self, but there was simply nothing of value in large enough quantities for him to collect, especially inside the house, where he was living either way.   
Bilbo was eerily nice to him. He'd learned of hobbits from him a lot in these past weeks and he was glad to find that Bilbo brought some specific extras of his own. He was a little awkward concerning certain things and, while he was an honest burglar, he was not always an openly honest host.  
Smaug would often find him in his armchair, glaring into the fireplace, lost in his own thoughts and an expression on his face, that he'd seen on many faces outside Bag End, but never on any of the hobbits passing his home. He remembered it on the faces of people injured in the Battle, mourning the loss of loved ones in the dragon's attack. Smaug hadn't cared for them.  
But they had also been selfish, at least compared to Bilbo, who had taken him in despite knowing of his truths and without proper reason; the most generous person Smaug had ever met. Giving without any expectation of getting anything back. Bilbo would have more than enough reason to hate Smaug, try to kill him even – after all, he had cost the hobbit a lot.   
It was a kindness unknown to the former dragon. None he would have found among his own kin. So, it irked him to feel something at seeing that look on Bilbo's face. It was the look of a person who had seen too much of the world and of nature. When he asked about it, however, Bilbo just faked a smile and said he was merely tired and nodding off. He knew Smaug knew it was a lie.  
“What are you thinking about?” the Hobbit asked him over supper.  
  
Smaug pushed his fork, placed in mid-air in a half forgotten stab, into a potato. “I was just reflecting recent happenings.” he answered before guiding the food into his mouth.  
  
“Mh, that's good! That's very.. human.” Bilbo replied. “Anything in particular?”  
  
Amber eyes narrowed where they fixated an invisible spot on the table. “I seem to be developing emotions. Sentiment.”   
  
Bilbo paused, interested. “Oh?” he enquired after a moment of silence, encouraging Smaug to continue.  
  
“I loath it.” he decided and resumed eating.  
  
The hobbit took a moment to consider that and his next approach. “Does it make you feel weak? An easy target?”  
  
“Don't be ridiculous, I've felt emotions before. Just not these.”  
  
Bilbo calmly ignored the bite in Smaug's tone and instead tried to get further information. It would do himself good to get back into a more social mood. “And which would 'these' be?”  
  
The man's eyes narrowed again, searching for the right words. “Fondness. Compassion.”  
  
Bilbo tilted his head. “Do you feel that for me?” Smaug covered his mouth with a hand, confirming. “Well, I am not going to take advantage of that. Neither do I intend to-”  
  
“I am _not_ scared of being a target!” Smaug interrupted slowly, but firmly, reaffirming his previous statement.  
  
Bilbo looked on for a moment. “Alright.”  
  
“I don't want to feel dependant on your hospitality.” he finally settled on, which felt right. Clear and straight answers for the both of them. Only, it seemed, Bilbo misunderstood him.  
  
Bilbo looked a little perplexed, like that thought hadn't even occurred to him. “Oh. You don't have to worry about that. I'm happy to help you-”  
  
“I _mean_ I don't want to stay here for however long I have in this body. I must not get used to living in company, it does not fit my nature.”   
  
They looked at each other for a moment, expressions very different. “Why do you have to be alone? Maybe you don't want to stay with me, but if you find someone you like, maybe even a lady, then.. why not live together?” Bilbo inquired. Partly to learn of Smaug's nature and intentions, but also, more subconsciously to reassure himself and his own motives.  
  
“You have lived alone for a while.” Smaug remarked. Quite rightly so, it was the same thing Bilbo had just questioned himself over.  
  
His answer was more a reflex than anything. “Yes, but I-” Bilbo stopped. There wasn't really much reason for why he'd been alone and would still be, had he not brought Smaug with him. “I invited you to live with me.”  
  
“For a while.”

 

“Yes, but I think I did that because I didn't want to come home to an empty house, living on my own again.” he answered truthfully.  
  
Smaug knew the look on his face all too well by now. The loss. The loneliness. “But you will when I leave.”  
  
Bilbo shook himself at that, putting his mask back on. “I will cross that bridge when I get to it.” he tried to terminate the conversation.  
  
“Why do you suddenly want me to stay?”  
  
A little agitated by Smaug's relentless questioning, Bilbo put down his cutlery. “Because..well. I think we got off on the wrong foot. I mean the circumstances did not exactly play in our favours and, given who and what we were, I don't think we could ever have.. uh.. well, I think things are certainly different now and.. well.. I don't know. I like you, if that's enough reason for you.” he said more aggressively than strictly necessary, trying to distract from the fact that he didn't actually know.  
  
“I still tried to kill you.”  
  
“I wasn't exactly praying for your well-being, either.”   
  
“Did you celebrate my fall? My 'death'?” Smaug asked with a look that was entirely free of judgement and left no room for lies.  
  
Bilbo wouldn't have lied either way. “A bit, yes. I mean, there wasn't too much room for celebrations as the battle commenced shortly after. But I would have done, yes.”  
  
Smaug didn't appear angry over learning that information. Instead, he smiled in a predatory way. He then turned back to his meal and left everything unsaid hanging in the air.

Over the following weeks, their relationship got stronger. Bilbo had shown him around the village eventually, gone on walks through the nearby forest, even. Despite what Bilbo had sworn himself after Thorin, he grew very fond of Smaug. And despite what Smaug had every sworn himself about any humanoid being, he had started to admit to himself that he liked Bilbo as well.   
“Can you pass me the salt, please?” Bilbo asked, cracking open his egg. Smaug handed it to him, their hands touching as Bilbo took it, lingering for longer than necessary, neither one mentioning it, but both knowing they appreciate the gesture. The closer they grew together, the more they realised how lonely they would be without each other and so they revelled in whatever comfort either one offered.  
  
  
  
“Can I tell you something?” Bilbo asked in return when Smaug had brought up, yet again, the sad look on the hobbit's face. For the first time, he was not going to act as if it was all fine.  
  
Smaug would not let this chance slide. Despite how sentimental it was; he had been trying to get more information for months now. “My dear Bilbo,” he began in a low and calm voice, face straight, but warm, “who ever would I tell your concerns to?”  
Bilbo regarded him for a moment, seemingly considering this. He finally began to speak.  
  
  
  
“You have come a long way, you know. Half a year and you are very human.” Bilbo mentioned one day as they were sitting in front of the house. The hobbit was sitting on his bench, smoking his pipe.  
  
Smaug was sat on the grass to spare his knees the agony of such a bend. “Wrong. I am not a human and I never will be.” he replied in a deep rumble, his voice soft, but the spite in it still audible.  
  
Bilbo would not let his point go so easily. “You are voicing concern and empathy. You let yourself be guided by emotions more in general. You have learned table manners and social manners-”  
  
“I am behaving like a Hobbit. I look like a human, but I am and will always be a dragon. You can integrate me, but you cannot change me.” the tall man replied. Bilbo smiled a little. He found the petulant man very endearing.  
  
“Are you still angry with me? For what I did? Do you still want to leave and live in isolation because you hate everyone and everything?” he asked with a smirk that seemed to mock the very idea.  
  
Smaug did not reply for a long while. “Do you still stand by your initial promise of this lasting 'only for a while'?”  
Their eyes met and they mutually agreed to share the quiet ridicule of their own foolishness.  
  
  
People were talking, of course. Bilbo had told them about the traveller staying with him for a while, but when said man was still at his house after over six months had passed, Bilbo had to explain that, since 'Sam' had nothing, no home to return to, he had decided to spend more time here, with his only friend.   
The others had given him funny looks, but accepted the excuse. It was no lie after all. Not entirely.  
  
  
  
When Smaug had him crowded up against a wall, it wasn't anything shocking or unexpected. They just wanted to pass it other in the hall, turning to make space, facing each other and mingling.   
Smaug brushed his hand down Bilbo's cheek, looking him softly in the eyes as he leaned in to kiss him. Bilbo let him. He pushed his own fingers into Smaug's curls and kissed him back. It didn't feel wrong, although he was sure it should have done.  
When the moment passed, they both turned and went back to what they had been doing.

  
  
Two weeks passed after that first kiss. Not much changed. Their touches were as frequent as before, but they suddenly felt a lot more intimate and like something had been lifted off them that they hadn't realised was there before. The only novelty where some short kisses in the morning and in the evening. Sometimes during the day when they felt they needed each other particularly close. When they sat together at night, Bilbo often reading, they were cuddled up together, falling asleep in their embrace more than once.  
  
One particular night, when nothing extraordinary or special had happened, they were, again, cuddled up, sharing small pecks of adoration. Bilbo laid his hand in Smaug's long neck and pulled him closer, loneliness overwhelming him and the proximity of his one remaining companion suddenly flooding him with desire. For attention, for comfort – he did not know. He only felt it burn inside himself and Smaug reflected it, his kisses intensifying. It was clumsy and inelegant, neither one practised in the field, but both content to learn with each other.  
It wasn't long before Bilbo was up and dragging Smaug along into the guest bedroom, where he made the tall man sit on his large bed, climbed onto his lap and picked up where he had left off.   
Smaug gradually lowered himself back onto the bed, carefully guiding Bilbo along with him.   
  
Smaug caught Bilbo's hands when he began undressing them both. “I hope you realise what you will find is not the body of a lady.”  
  
“Right now, I honestly just want some friction.” Bilbo gasped back at him and resumed his work.   
Sitting on Smaug's waist to reach his lips, the hobbit shuffled down further to fully unbutton the other man's waistcoat, however he received help with the shirt. The pale body sat up to remove the fabric, stripping out of his vest as Bilbo undid his own clothes. Kicking their trousers off, the hobbit pushed Smaug back down, grinding against the broader hips that he could barely span his own thighs over. He grabbed at Smaug's torso. The man had put on some weight thanks to the many meals they were having and Bilbo, too was back to his old bit of chub. It felt comfortable.   
He leaned down and kissed what skin he could reach, expressing all he couldn't say, from his gratitude to his love of the other man.  
  
Smaug, feeling mildly underwhelmed by the small, weak body trying to press against him, gently flipped them over, laying atop Bilbo and between his legs. It gave him a strange satisfaction, along with the arousal, to have his lover beneath him. He could not bend his body enough to kiss Bilbo in this position, but he could reach the top of his head, pressing his lips to it as he rutted against the hobbit, feeling the resistance of the bed underneath and realising that he was likely being to forceful against the delicate creature, but found neither of them really cared in that moment. Lust was a selfish business.   
It was short and unromantic, just a bunch of grunting noises. But it was effective. Spent and satiated, Smaug rolled off Bilbo, laying by his side, he gathered him in his arms and drew him close to himself.

 

 


	6. Up the hill and down the valley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters after this. No, don't expect them to be any longer either. I said it was a brief fic.
> 
> I actually cried writing this, so I'm hoping you fill my water tank so I can keep showering in sweet, salty tears :)

Kissing Smaug, kissing _someone_ , was just beautiful. Bilbo had hardly any better words for it. It had been a lifetime since he had shared intimacies with another person and he'd lived secluded ever since – not physically, but still noticeably. Love, like this, he had never felt. If he believed in fate, he would laugh cynically at the circumstances: His fate being to love a dragon who had become a human. He was happy with what he had. It was good. The kissing was good. The touching was good. The sex was good.  
Smaug was just forcing himself inside Bilbo – difficult, thanks to their bodies' sizes. When the large man stopped for a moment, Bilbo asked if he was alright. Smaug had sighed, kissed the top of his head and begun to rock their bodies. “Oh, my dear Bilbo, I am the size of your arm and yet you ask after my well-being when I impale you on myself?”  
  
“What can I say, I am concerned for you. Always.” Bilbo answered, smiling, though his face was screwed up in pain. “Stop-ow! stop. Wait.” he begged. He carefully readjusted his position, asked for Smaug to wait a little longer and signalled him when he was ready continue.  
  
  
“You really cared for Oakenshield, did you not?” Smaug once asked as they were laying in the grass, on a hill somewhere on the outermost borders of the shire, having spent all day walking, stopping for a pic-nick or two, just finding that perfect spot to see the sun go by, watching the night sky.   
  
Bilbo rolled his head to look at him. “Thorin?” he took a moment to think about his answer. The dwarf's face flashed in front of his eyes, dead. Empty where there had before been determination, angst, passion.. and love. “Yes.” Bilbo eventually answered, closing his eyes against tears and swallowing down the lump in his throat.  
  
“Not that I ceased loathing him, but I do think I understand now. Your sadness. I would be sad if you were gone. Worse, still, if you stopped trusting me.” the dragon said, amber eyes rushing over the stars to hide something he felt unsafe to say. Or search something he couldn't understand.  
  
Bilbo's eyebrows drew together and he reached out for Smaug's big hand. “Don't go against me and you won't find me opposite yourself.” he replied. It sounded threatening, but Smaug and he both knew he meant it with the utmost respect and care for the other man.

“Thorin and I weren't..” he began, paused and resumed, “He was a good man. He had a kind heart.”  
  
“Do I-..” Smaug set to ask, but stopped. He was not sure what it was he wanted to ask.   
  
Bilbo appeared to know, however, and smiled. “You were absorbed in your solitude. It was what gave you strength as a dragon. But humans are more vulnerable. You would be dead had you not opened up to me. Since then, I have been looking into your heart. It is most kind.” he nodded in emphasis, gleaming into Smaug's face.   
  
The man smiled back hesitantly. He reached to caress Bilbo's face.  
  
  
Bilbo was shocked to find a familiar face as he bargained for Smaug and his food supplies. “Gandalf!” he explained, leaning back with his entire body to look up at the wizard.  
  
“Bilbo Baggins!” he greeted back cheerily, obviously pleased to see him. “I see you have settled back in well. It has done good on your attitude, your _adventure_.” the wizard remarked with a wink.  
  
Bilbo grinned widely. “Yes, well, I have.. made a friend.” he answered, gesturing to where Smaug was pursuing his sixth favourite activity after kissing Bilbo, cuddling Bilbo, eating with Bilbo, talking with Bilbo and having sex with Bilbo. “Actually I've made quite a couple of friends, I suppose. If we count the ones I haven't seen in all this while.”  
  
Gandalf frowned suddenly, looking uncertain. “And who is that?” he enquired.  
  
“Oh, that is Sam.” the hobbit explained. “He is a human from Lake-town. Lost everything in the.. well.” he stopped, not wanting to speak the rest. Gandalf would get his meaning.   
  
“Bilbo, whatever he may be, that is not a human.” As if on cue, Smaug froze, then slowly lifted himself up off the grass and, very unsuspiciously, retreated back into their home. Bilbo looked back up to Gandalf, to find that they had held an intensive eye-contact.   
  
The hobbit grew nervous, smiling awkwardly in an attempt to hide his lies. “What? No, he is. If not human, then what should he be? He told me.”  
  
“I am not saying that he is necessarily unsavoury, but he is certainly not who he says he is. Those are not the eyes of a human being. Be careful, Bilbo Baggins!” Gandalf warned him, then continued on his way to wherever he was headed.   
  
Bilbo's breathing got a little harsher as he tried to think how to best dissolve the situation because there were at least five other hobbits to have overheard them; some of which he knew not to trust with gossip. He smiled again, turning back to his previous conversation partner. “Wizards, eh?”he scoffed, but hurried his way back home nonetheless.   
  
Inside, Smaug confronted him almost immediately. “What did he say, what does the wizard know?!” he asked in a tone akin to panic.  
  
“Nothing, Smaug, he doesn't know anything other than that you are not human.” he tried to soothe, putting down their food and grabbing the man's wrist gently. “He couldn't tell, darling.” Bilbo said, going on his tip-toes to reach up and cup Smaug's face in order to comfort him. The man sunk to his knees, now looking up and Bilbo and when he leaned back against his heels, his worry and defeat became impossible to ignore. Bilbo leaned on him, his knees resting near Smaug's hips. The dragon stabilised him with large hands on his waist.   
  
“They heard. They will ban me from this village. If they know just a little bit, they won't want me around, Bilbo.” the dragon almost pleaded, knowing neither of them could work to evade such an event.  
  
“What? No!” Bilbo shook his head. “They will not do that.-” he begged right back as Smaug cut through his speech.  
  
“I saw their fear. On their faces, there was fear, of the unknown. An intruder of undetermined nature? They will not have me around for much longer.” Smaug continued telling him, tears stinging in the corners of his eyes at the prospect of having to leave behind the life he had finally found and loved to live.  
  
Bilbo rested their foreheads together. “I will not let you go. Do you hear me?” he was holding the pale face in both his hands now.  
  
Smaug shook his head. “When it comes to this-.. My dear Bilbo, promise you won't follow me. If I am not safe to live with here, I am not safe to live with anywhere. You lead a quiet, secure life here, among your kin. You find a pretty Hobbit and one day you visit me with your child? Can you do that for me?”  
  
Bilbo wiped away a joint tear of them both on Smaug's cheek with the pad of his thumb. “No. You know I can't.”  
  
“Promise me anyway?”  
  
Seeing the plea and the hope and desperation in the amber eyes that Bilbo had come to know so well, he clenched his own eyes shut and whispered quietly. “I promise.”  
  
Smaug pulled him closer and Bilbo collapsed into his lap, hugging him, holding on for dear life. They both knew that losing this home would be far from the worst that could happen, but being out there, at this time, in search of a new home, amongst new people, two men, two different species, and word travelled fast where Gandalf was involved. Bilbo only hoped he would not talk about this with the elves. They would have to fear for their lives while on the move.  
  
  
Not a fortnight passed before half the Shire was whispering, murmuring about the mysterious guest that had never been a bother before. All of a sudden, 'Sam' was the most interesting topic of the village. Smaug, for his part retreated more and more into their home. Whatever rare time he had left it, there had been eyes on him, not curious any more, but suspicious, scared. He ceased going out. Some days he remained rolled into a ball on their bed. Bilbo would nudge him and say he couldn't idle away all day and some days it worked, others it did not. More often than not, they sat around the sitting room, in each other's arms, with each other's lips softly against their skin and each other's words hopelessly giving encouragement. Bilbo left only once to restock their pantry and he would feel alien among his own. When he next set his foot outside the door, they were waiting for him.  
“Where is he?!” they demanded. “We have had enough of this secrecy! He either tells us what he is or he leaves without another word!”  
  
Bilbo had just started arguing, saying how it hadn't mattered before and that he was doing no harm, when Smaug appeared behind him, his hand between Bilbo's shoulder blades bringing his defence to a stop. “Do not fight them on my behalf. We have been expecting this, let us not make it bigger than it need be. I will leave.”  
  
“What? No. No!” Bilbo argued. “You don't just give up- If you want him to leave, you will have to make me leave!” he protested, standing his ground. Smaug glared at him. The Hobbits only did for a second.  
  
“Very well, you will both be banned from this village. You will leave the Shire. You may return, Bilbo Baggins, but on your own, when you have found back to your senses. We expect you to be gone by the evening.” and thus, they left.  
  
And thus, they were homeless. Bilbo stared blankly out the door for a moment. “Bilbo-” Smaug tried softly, but it only served for the Hobbit's impulse to slam said door and storm back into the hole, grabbing things and piling them. Smaug followed him around wordlessly, always wanting to speak but never knowing what to say.   
He held the bags open as Bilbo stuffed them with items, trying to catch the Hobbit's eye, but he was angry and focused on his one task.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always planned this as one of the plot points in the story, so the angst was always on my list, but, nevertheless: #blameSassiebone - they wanted the angst ;)
> 
> Happy New Year guys, let's start it off with tears! :D


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no WiFi for 3 days, so get ready for the grand finale!
> 
> Next (last) chapter is only a short epilogue, so soak this one up, won't you!
> 
> As ever: #blamesassiebone (this is all (totally not) your fault!)

After walking in silence for hours, they had created a little campsite for themselves in the dead of night. Bilbo was twisting and rolling something in his palm, glancing over at Smaug occasionally. The human was leaning against some rocks, pointedly not looking at Bilbo.   
“You are angry with me.” the hobbit remarked, his eyes on his hands.  
  
Smaug wouldn't look at him. “You promised.”  
  
“I told you I couldn't. You knew I couldn't. I said that because you wanted me to!” Bilbo fired back at him. Smaug hugged his knees closer to his chest. “Would you? Would you have stayed behind? Not knowing where I was going, who knew what about me-”  
  
“I wasn't even supposed to be there! I was supposed to die from that arrow or at least drown in that lake. You saved me once and I did not deserve it. How do you expect me to take yet another of your sacrifices?” There was a tone to Smaug's voice that was an obvious cover for sadness. His gaze fell to where Bilbo's hands were nervously fiddling. The dragon-come-man felt a sudden surge of unsettlement, like a bad omen. “What is that?”  
  
Bilbo quickly glanced down and there was a shift in his expression. He looked defensive. “Nothing. Nothing of importance. Don't distract!”  
  
They held eye-contact for a long moment, it getting more intense by the second. “Give me that.” Smaug demanded as the look in Bilbo's eyes resembled more and more that of a stranger.   
  
“No, why?”  
  
“Bilbo Baggins, give that thing to me!”   
  
Amber eyes piercing, Bilbo reluctantly handed over the gold ring. “I don't understand the fuss you are making around this issue.” he said as Smaug took the band from him.  
  
The pale man inspected it carefully, turning it around between his fingers. “Where did you get this?” he demanded harshly.  
  
“I found it.”  
  
Smaug looked slowly twisted it as if he was reading. “This is no simple ring ring, Bilbo, we need rid ourselves of it. I sense a dark magic surrounding it..” he concluded thoughtfully.  
  
“Well, in that case we can't leave it laying around just for anyone to find.” Bilbo argued, eyeing Smaug's movements with great interest.   
  
“No, indeed not. I will hold onto it. For safekeeping.”  
  
Bilbo reached out to grab it from him, but Smaug closed his fist around it and he held it instead. “You just want to keep it yourself!”  
  
Smaug put his second hand above Bilbo's and slowly, gently lifted it away from his fist. He spoke in a suspicious tone. “Whatever this ring's effects, they will not affect me.”  
  
“How do you know?”  
  
Smaug frowned at him. “Look at yourself, Bilbo. It's not like you to be so suspicious.” It seemed to shake the hobbit up, since he dropped his gaze and his shoulders slumped. “Leave the ring with me and we will be even.” Smaug said calmly, caressing the back of the smaller hand with his thumb. Bilbo ground his teeth together, but agreed.  
The larger man lifted his hand up and kissed the back of it.   
  
Bilbo looked up into his eyes. His face softened. “Were we arguing a moment ago?”  
  
“I remember such a thing happening, yes.” Smaug smiled back tenderly. He leaned over and kissed Bilbo's cheek.

 

 

After a while of wandering, sitting and eating, admiring the landscape together and having no real direction as of yet, Smaug and Bilbo were arguing where to sleep that night. It was getting dark and breezy and while the Hobbit had to agree that a cave might be the best location, his trauma with the goblins did not encourage bravery. “Do you not think I could smell them?” Smaug argued when Bilbo had uttered his concern.  
  
“Maybe you can. Maybe you can't. We didn't suspect a thing!” the hobbit countered, unsure if he was underestimating the ex-dragon's nose or Smaug overestimating his lost abilities.  
  
The other man looked offended. “You were travelling with _dwarves_.”  
  
“Who are my _friends_! And some of which nearly died to protect me and then died to protect each other..” the small man threw back angrily, his voice getting lower as a nostalgic sort of sadness swept over him.  
  
Smaug's eyes roamed the hobbit's face helplessly. “I'd die to protect you.” he eventually said. Realising how desperate it sounded, he quickly added what came to mind first, which later he thought was not much better. “You can trust me on this, I will not lead us into that kind of trouble. We need to find shelter, my dear.” he said, tipping the other's chin up so he looked into his eyes.  
  
“Fine. I do trust you.” the hobbit replied and smiled for a second. Smaug stood up from where he was crouching and took Bilbo's small hand in his, leading him closer to the rocky edges.   
Once they found a suitable cave, the human ducked in first, sniffing patting around with his hands and feet testing the area for anything hidden and found nothing. They sat down and unloaded their baggage before setting off to find wood and stones, creating a little fire. Smaug ran through their supplies, to select something to eat. He grabbed an unfamiliar flask and opened it, sniffing at it.   
He took a moment to place the scent and then smirked at Bilbo, who was preparing their rudimentary bed of layered cloths. The hobbit turned around, curious about the noises having stopped. His eyes wondered from Smaug's listed lips to the flask and he gave a short chuckle. “One never knows..” he said a little shyly.  
  
“No.” Smaug agreed, his amusement and approval clear in his voice. “Though of all necessities I would not have expected you to pack _oil_ for our journey. Surely it's not for cooking.”  
  
“It's not.” Bilbo confirmed.  
  
Smaug placed the flask off to their sides, letting Bilbo finish their little nest while he found, and cooked, potatoes in the little pot they'd brought with them. They ate, sharing small kisses between bits of conversation. “Tell me about your family, please. You never do.”  
  
“And do you not think me avoiding the subject might have a reason to it?” Smaug argued. Bilbo shrugged and he sighed in return. “My dear Bilbo, I am old. I hardly remember them.” he answered, his eyebrows creased up clumsily, the expression still a little foreign to him. “We aren't a terribly sentimental or familial species.” he added, taking a bite of potato and thinking. “I was never bothered by this.” He sounded like he was considering the change in his own deception of things.  
  
“What has changed?”  
  
“I don't know.” the dragon replied, looking thoughtfully down at their food. “I think I.. I want to have a family of my own. Something to fight for. Something to protect. I do, I have you, but I want to do it with you not for you.”  
  
Bilbo studied the musing look on Smaug's face and considered his words for a moment. “Darling, I cannot bear your children, you are aware?”  
  
Smaug's head snapped to face Bilbo and he blinked and a moment later burst out laughing. They were both giggling for quite a while, each with their own images in mind, tickled by the ridiculous idea. Eventually, Smaug leaned over and patted Bilbo's belly. “Though it is hard to believe you aren't already!” he joked again and Bilbo tried not to grin around a pout.  
  
“It's in my nature! I'm a broad build!” he protested. “Besides, you're one to talk! Living with hobbits has done good on _you_.” he countered, slapping Smaug's stomach affectionately and waited for him to initiate another short round of laughing.   
  
Smaug's hand, nearly as long as Bilbo's head, cupped the side of his face gently. He leaned down and kissed the hobbit. “You are a joy to behold when you laugh.”  
  
“You say such sweet things sometimes. One might think you are trying to woe me.” Bilbo smiled back, kissing him softly.  
  
“We do have oil.” Smaug argued and Bilbo chuckled again.  
  
“Can you take anything seriously?” he demanded from the human, but reached for his buttons nonetheless.   
  
Smaug was about to comment on how they had just been evicted from their home and that some light-hearted conversation might be just what they need but refrained. He didn't want to mention it. Instead, he carefully lowered Bilbo onto his back, lifted him off the dirt and shuffled over to their bed with him. They would have, no doubt, laughed again, had they not been kissing; more intimately this time.  
They undressed each other slowly. The cave was cold, but the fire kept them warm. Smaug hummed as he reached between Bilbo's thighs, brushing his erection lightly as he headed down to his opening. He circled the muscle with his fingertip, then carefully pushed his little finger inside. Bilbo tensed up for a second, but quickly relaxed, used to the intrusion.  
“You are getting better at this.”  
  
Bilbo scoffed lovingly at this. “You are taking more time with it. I remember when you first tried... Not quite so pleasant.”   
  
“How was I to know?” Smaug pouted jokingly as he moved his finger in and out of Bilbo.  
  
The hobbit sighed and closed his eyes, his hands wandering over Smaug's softened sides. “Oh, no idea. Not rush it and explore, maybe?”  
  
“I could have told you that wasn't in my nature.” the dragon defended himself and Bilbo grinned.  
  
“Yes, you could have.” he said like a suggestion, mocking his partner. Then he softened his gaze again and looked up to where their faces perfectly aligned in this position with Smaug crouching by his knees, leaning forward and over him. Bilbo reached out to brush his thumb over the plush lips. “We were both still learning.”  
  
“I would argue we aren't done doing so yet.” Smaug replied, testing to insert another finger. Bilbo squirmed, but didn't resist the stretch. He pulled the other man's face close into a kiss again, keeping them connected until his body was ready to take Smaug in; which was always still tricky, as Bilbo was simply smaller in all proportions.  
Smaug rocked them gently, grunting to their bed as Bilbo moaned against his chest. Pain and pleasure became indistinguishable as they melted together in a world where only they existed; the two of them, their love, their desire. It was a romantic way to describe it, but Bilbo could not think of any words more fitting.  
  


He loved this. He loved them. “I love you.” he breathed against Smaug absent-mindedly.   
  
His tall partner rounded his back to kiss the top of his head. “And I you.”

 

The fire kept a warm glow on Bilbo's back as Smaug's body heated his front under the blanket. He might not have a house, but he was a home and he felt safe and protected there in his partner's arms. Beyond the crackling of the flames, creatures of all kinds made their noises as they crawled about, but they couldn't harm him here. Warm and soft lips were laid against his forehead in a never-ending kiss, as his own mouth breathed against Smaug's collar bone, sleep creeping in around him.  
“Merry supfast, my dear Bilbo.” he heard the low voice rumble.  
  
Bilbo frowned, angled his head back to look at his partner. “What are you talking about?”  
  
“It's been a year.” the human explained. “Since our first meal together; since we started living together. I thought I should mention it.”  
  
“Oh..” Bilbo replied intelligently. “Did you deliberately delay our meal into the night?”  
  
Smaug grinned with his eyes closed. “I might have done.”  
  
The hobbit pushed him onto his back with a chuckle and sprawled his smaller body over him. “Merry supfast it is, then, darling.” There was a long, comfortable silence before Bilbo picked the word back up. “Do you remember, when we were first together like this, you asked me if I was aware that you aren't a lady?”  
  
“Mh, I remember.”  
  
Bilbo placed a kiss on Smaug's chest. “I never told you, or anyone, that I have always been more inclined towards.. men.”  
  
“..Oh?”  
  
“Yes.. So, you see.. I could not have stayed behind and had a family with a nice woman. And I would never find someone like you again. Someone who accepts me. Who returns my feelings. It's not common in our society.” Bilbo explained.  
  
Smaug caressed his back gently. “I understand. Thank you for opening up to me. I value this.”

 

 

 

They had decided to go back to the humans, under the mountain, where they had met both first times. It only made sense to try where fate had brought them together once already. As soon as they arrived, they asked around, seeing some familiar faces. Bilbo could feel Smaug tense up beside him as they spoke to Bard. “We can always use a helping hand!” the man had said. A year after the events, they had made a lot of progress in re-building the city that was once lost to the madness of a cruel beast. “You are friends with the dwarves, are you not?”   
  
“I am.”  
  
“Good. We need someone who can bargain with them for a few things. Doubt you could help much in repairing this town, a little short for that.” the man continued on. Bilbo was just about to defend himself when Smaug finally spoke as well. “We will do what we can if that means we can stay.”  
  
“Well, we still don't have enough roofs to give everyone a home, but the dwarves agreed to letting us lodge with them until we do. So, the workers are sleeping in what we have got here and the women and children are with them for now. We should be able to give everyone a place to sleep before the year is out, but I can't guarantee you will get your own houses; there is too many families we have to consider first.”  
  
“That will be fine.” Bilbo replied. “We have been lodging together for the past year, but needed to leave. We will be fine in one house.”  
  
  
Bard showed Smaug where he would be sleeping with the other men and went back to work, saying he could start helping the next morning. The dragon accompanied Bilbo on a stroll through the town, then up to the gates of Erebor. “I apologise. Not only did I take your home from you, but now we must live apart for a while as well.” he said softly to the hobbit, kneeling before him.  
  
Bilbo reached to cup his face, looking around to make sure they were unseen. “We needed to find somewhere your size either way. The conditions in my hole were surely unhealthy and uncomfortable for you. Sooner or later I would have made us leave.” he replied with a soft smile, then leaned down to kiss Smaug.   
  
The dragon smiled back. I can hardly await the day we will share again. Already it feels like they are tearing us apart. You be careful in there, won't you, Bilbo?”  
  
“Rest assured, I am in good hands. We will see each other, darling. I can visit you. Take your mind off the work.” Bilbo answered with a cheeky grin.  
  
Smaug chuckled and kiss Bilbo again. In between, he said “I've no doubt you can.” He pulled the short man close into an embrace. “On you go, then. Night is coming and I want to know you safe inside.”  
  
“Don't forget: No one must know. My kind have been accepting, if they made their conclusions, but I would not expect humans to take kindly to... us. Just don't talk about it, if you can avoid it?” With Smaug's nod and a final kiss, Bilbo moved back onto the main path and Smaug watched around the bent.   
  
A familiar voice answered his call. “Tell that Bard we hardly know where to sleep ourselves – there's no room for more of their wives!”  
  
“Maybe there is room for an old friend?” Bilbo asked warmly and was finally looked at. He was greeted with open arms.

 

 

Indeed they spent much time together. Bilbo would leave for the town the first thing in the morning, find the workers and stay close to them, occasionally speaking with them, getting them refreshments when they wanted to take breaks and otherwise sat and bothered no one. He started bringing along parchment, quill and ink and simply wrote or drew. Smaug would sit down next to him with a flask of water to see what he was creating. Once, Bilbo painted him, standing on a ladder, fixing boards to a roof.   
Sometimes they met in secret at night time, fooling around or merely enjoying the stars together. Smaug once told him that whenever the women would come into town to share supplies between their ends, some of them would remember Smaug from when he first got here, wounded. Bilbo pretended not to feel the jealousy those stories brought with them. He himself acted as a moderator between the, sometimes hot-headed, dwarves and over-ambitious humans. Their system worked well enough.   
As promised, Bilbo moved into town before the year ran out. When their new door closed behind them, Bilbo wound his arms around Smaug, who did his best to share the sentiment without knocking them both over. He eventually sunk to his knees and they embraced each other longingly. “Welcome home!” Smaug breathed into his curls.   
  
“May this be a good new beginning.” the hobbit replied, kissing his cheek. Then Smaug showed him around. Everything was human-sized, but he had made sure there was something for Bilbo to stand on everywhere. The hobbit chuckled at this. “I will manage. At least your back might be spared some pain now.” he said, reaching up a hand to lay on the small of Smaug's back.  
  
The taller man hummed. “I hope that does not mean you will stop rubbing it for me.”

 

 

Smaug went on to work with the fishermen. They did not need the money, but since Bilbo didn't work aside from the occasional trade with the dwarves and writing and painting for his own pleasure, they supposed Smaug had to show some effort for the community. It seemed to work well, not a soul was complaining.  
Year over year they spent in this town, content and fulfilled. Bilbo didn't think he wanted to go back to the Shire; not without Smaug.   
They were so unlikely to happen. Once enemies who tried to kill each other, they were now inseparable.  
Smaug had once thanked him for the chance he had given him and the man he'd made him into. Bilbo had told him that he believed in forgiveness more than grudge.  
The hobbit was just on his return from gathering their food one afternoon, when he found their door ajar. He entered and closed it behind him before he called inside. “Smaug? Darling?”   
The fishermen had returned just this morning and would not leave again for a week. Smaug should be home. He spotted red on the wooded floor and left their food on the side, leaning against the wall. He bowed down and touched to find it wet. Raising his finger to his face he recognised the blood. His heart sunk low and a panic gripped him. He rounded the corner in dread. More blood leaving a trail that lead into their kitchen. He followed it.   
His knees gave way and a broken wail escaped his mouth when he found Smaug on the floor, blood all over his chest and in a pool around his body. Bilbo crawled over to him with a sob. By the time he reached his partner his eyes were stinging with tears and his body was shaking. Against better judgement he held his fingers under Smaug's nostrils and found no breath escaping. He tried and failed to contain the cries fighting their way out of his throat as he cowered over his lover's corpse.  
On a piece of parchment laying nearby, someone had written 'you are safe now.'

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #blamesassiebone  
> #blamesassiebone  
> #blamesassiebone


	8. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo's journey is concluded and so is ours.  
> I'll give him the last word.
> 
> Thank you for finding your way here with us :)
> 
> If you want to commission me, drop me a message on tumblr :3   
> (http://thekats.tumblr.com)

_My dear Frodo, if ever you find these pages, I hope you have read them with care and respect. Revisiting these memories was no painless journey, but much of it was not unpleasant. They made me remember a friend, a time that made me a very happy hobbit. Though I continue to mourn the loss that I've made, I smile at the fun that we had and the love that I shared._

_Some may that Smaug got what the dragon deserved. I saw in him a human, the closest friend and what I saw in his eyes, what I heard in his voice was not regret, but understanding. I forgave him where it was not my place to do so. It made me feel better. It made him feel better, too._

_It seems needless to point out the night I broke upon my way back to the shire. I need not tell you of my reasoning to bitterness. A broken heart cannot be mended. It never truly heals; at least it did not for me._

_His frightened, innocent eyes will haunt my dreams forever. He was no beast; not by that time. Just a man who tried to care for his family: me._

_To this day I do not know how they know and who had told them. I never asked. It would not have brought him back to me._

 

_I want you to take away a lesson from this. Sometimes forgiveness and kindness can bring you the happiest of times. Do not dwell on grudge. Live in the present, not the past. Make not the same mistake that I did and let go what cannot be changed._

_I began to write to forget, yet did not realise until too late, that the very thing would have me stuck in a fantasy that could never stay._

  
Bilbo set down the quill to ponder. His eyes rested on the gold band beside the pages of parchment that marked the second part of his adventure. The part that he was yet unsure he would dare reveal to Frodo. He remembered the night Smaug had taken that ring from him, warned him of the dark magic and his eyes wetted once more.   
He remembered taking it back with him as a souvenir. A weak excuse.

“Look at me now, darling” he thought aloud. “How weak I am. Without you, I have fallen for its power. It has aged me in ways I never knew. Soon, I hope, I may join you. I want to be with you one last time. Forever.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, I wouldn't expect it to get much better than this. I'm just doing it because I was angry to not find many Smaugbo stories that immediately spoke to me (which I, very likely, haven't done any better with my tags..), so I had to start writing my own.. which would probably be just as unappealing, would I ever re-read any of my stories ^^
> 
> If you do know good Smaugbo fics, give me the titles and authors, please!  
> If you know how to write in a more fitting style: TELL ME! D:


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